Saveria was a long time away, and when she at last reappeared, carrying
a letter, and followed by little Chilina, rubbing her eyes, and
evidently just waked out of her beauty sleep, Orso was wound up to the
highest possible pitch of impatience.
“Chili,” said Orso, “what are you doing here at this hour?”
“The signorina sent for me,” replied Chilina.
“What the devil does she want with her?” thought Orso to himself. But he
was in a hurry to open Miss Lydia’s letter, and while he was reading it
Chilina went upstairs to his sister’s room.
“My father, dear sir, has not been well,” Miss Nevil wrote, “and he is
so indolent, besides, that I am obliged to act as his secretary. You
remember that, instead of admiring the landscape with you and me the
other day, he got his feet wet on the sea-shore--and in your delightful
island, that is quite enough to give one a fever! I can see the face you
are making! No doubt you are feeling for your dagger. But I will hope
you have none now. Well, my father had a little fever, and I had a great
fright. The prefect, whom I persist in thinking very pleasant, sent us
a doctor, also a very pleasant man, who got us over our trouble in two
days. There has been no return of the attack, and my father would like
to begin to shoot again. But I have forbidden that. How did you find
matters in your mountain home? Is your North Tower still in its old
place? Are there any ghosts about it? I ask all these questions because
my father remembers you have promised him buck and boar and moufflon--is
that the right name for those strange creatures? We intend to crave your
hospitality on our way to Bastia, where we are to embark, and I trust
the della Rebbia Castle, which you declare is so old and tumble-down,
will not fall in upon our heads! Though the prefect is so pleasant that
subjects of conversation are never lacking to us--I flatter myself, by
the way, that I have turned his head--we have been talking about your
worshipful self. The legal people at Bastia have sent him certain
confessions, made by a rascal they have under lock and key, which are
calculated to destroy your last remaining suspicions. The enmity which
sometimes alarmed me for you must therefore end at once. You have no
idea what a pleasure this has been to me! When you started hence with
the fair _voceratrice_, with your gun in hand, and your brow lowering,
you struck me as being more Corsican than ever--too Corsican indeed!
_Basta!_ I write you this long letter because I am dull. The prefect,
alas! is going away. We will send you a message when we start for your
mountains, and I shall take the liberty of writing to Signorina Colomba
to ask her to give me a _bruccio, ma solenne_! Meanwhile, give her
my love. I use her dagger a great deal to cut the leaves of a novel I
brought with me. But the doughty steel revolts against such usage, and
tears my book for me, after a most pitiful fashion. Farewell, sir! My
father sends you ‘his best love.’ Listen to what the prefect says. He
is a sensible man, and is turning out of his way, I believe, on your
account. He is going to lay a foundation-stone at Corte. I should fancy
the ceremony will be very imposing, and I am very sorry not to see it.
A gentleman in an embroidered coat and silk stockings and a white scarf,
wielding a trowel--and a speech! And at the end of the performance
manifold and reiterated shouts of ‘God save the King.’ I say again, sir,
it will make you very vain to think I have written you four whole pages,
and on that account I give you leave to write me a very long letter. By
the way, I think it very odd of you not to have let me hear of your safe
arrival at the Castle of Pietranera!
“LYDIA.
“P.S.--I beg you will listen to the prefect, and do as he bids you. We
have agreed that this is the course you should pursue, and I shall be
very glad if you do it.”
Orso read the letter three or four times over, making endless mental
comments each time as he read. Then he wrote a long answer, which he
sent by Saveria’s hand to a man in the village, who was to go down to
Ajaccio the very next day. Already he had almost dismissed the idea of
discussing his grievance, true or false, against the Barricini, with
his sister. Miss Lydia’s letter had cast a rose-coloured tint over
everything about him. He felt neither hatred nor suspicion now. He
waited some time for his sister to come down, and finding she did not
reappear, he went to bed, with a lighter heart than he had carried
for many a day. Colomba, having dismissed Chilina with some secret
instructions, spent the greater part of the night in reading old
papers. A little before daybreak a few tiny pebbles rattled against the
window-pane. At the signal, she went down to the garden, opened a back
door, and conducted two very rough men into her house. Her first care
was to bring them into the kitchen and give them food. My readers will
shortly learn who these men were.